


Ride a Rohirrim

by SporaticSpinner



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Creep factor, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Mild breath play, Oral Sex, Public Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SporaticSpinner/pseuds/SporaticSpinner
Summary: AN: I kept looking for a particular story and decided to take a crack at it myself. It then spawned a thought process so I am attempting plot and a longer story arc.I haven't figured out how to tag chapters individually so as I add them the work will be tagged as a whole, but please pay attention to the chapter tags as those will guide you.Feedback is gold. Thank you!
Relationships: Eomer x Y/N, Eomer x reader, Eomer/Reader, Eomer/Y/N, EomerxReader, EomerxY/N, Eowyn x Reader, Eowyn x Y/N, Eowyn/ Y/N, Eowyn/Reader, eomer - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	1. A Stolen Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one that started it all, lol  
> Eomer is feeling trapped by Grima and seeks comfort in you.
> 
> Chapter Tags: Established relationship fluff, established relationship smut, mild breath play, semi-public sex, Eomer in love (is that a warning?)

Grima had once again turned a normal conversation about protecting Rohan into an opportunity to paint him as a power hungry mad man on the edge of treason. It seemed no reason could reach his Uncle and honor, duty, and justice no longer held sway in this land. Only Grima and his self-serving machinations mattered. Once again Grima‘s lecherous gaze had fallen on Éowyn. It made his skin crawl reading those thoughts on Grima’s face, and it must be doubly disturbing for Éowyn. He hated being able to do nothing but watch. Hated he has lost so much control.

Storming out of the palace following his feet he had no destination in mind, only knew he needed someplace, something clean and good after dealing with that filth. Someplace to clear his mind or he might do something rash; like beating Grima to a pulp. And that wouldn’t resolve anything. Whatever power Grima had over his Uncle needed to be removed before Grima was removed. That much was clear.

Lost in thought Éomer was surprised when he looked up and saw he was at the practice yards. A small chuff escaped his lips as he leaned on the fence and quietly watched the men sparring and running horses through exercises. The reliable, familiar sounds and smells started to work on him. His breathing slowed and his shoulders started to relax. Yes, honor and duty were still to be found in Rohan.

Hard work and diligence would always give their rewards to those who earned them.

He pushed off the fence and started to walk around the perimeter of the yards slowly making his way towards the back fields. These fields were rarely used for anything other than rest for the horses. He could always relax with the animals, they were honest and comforting; a touchstone to reality when he felt lost in the world of politics.

Today he thought the back yards held only him and the horses, but he was wrong. You were there going through solo sword exercises. No, you were working with his sister. The two of you would be the death of him. But he did nothing for the moment. You were both going through the exercises and despite his desperate need to keep you both safe, he had to admit you both moved well and knowing how to defend one’s self rarely went a miss. He also couldn’t blame his sister for needing an escape either, he wasn’t the only one affected by the decay of their Uncle. If this was how she worked through it, it was a better option than others available to her.

A bell tolled the hour and his sister left. Miraculously he wasn’t discovered as Éowyn left through the far gate. You stayed though and he found himself all but hypnotized by your movements. You moved with familiarity and ease through the exercise, one any soldier would be expected to do. Where you had learned the sequence who knew, it wasn’t a secret per se, but the full sequence wasn’t common knowledge either. You must have watched the soldiers for months to learn the whole thing. Gently smiling he was reminded of your dedication, once you made a choice you saw it through. It was one of things he loved about you.

You finish the sequence and start working your way out of the fields. Headed his way, he leaned on the fence and waited until you saw him. And when you did the smile that broke across your face erased whatever tension was left in his body. That smile could lift his spirits when it wasn’t directed towards him. And when it was, it nearly stopped his heart. Sometimes he didn’t know what to do with his feelings for you. Sometimes they were so strong he was sure they would change the flow of the river if he could find a way to tap the energy.

“My Lord Éomer, what a pleasant surprise.” You hand him your sword and climb over the fence like a child. His laugh caught him off guard. Wasn’t he just ready to rip the logs of the palace apart with his bare hands? How was he calm enough to laugh? This woman...

“Just following my feet and I find you encouraging my sister. Should have known it was you.”

“Who else would dare to be alone with her and a sword?”

“Who indeed? Are you free this afternoon?” She hummed her availability. “I find I cannot bear the thought of returning to the palace just now and I am of a mind to go for a ride. Would you care to join me?” He asked while guiding them towards the barn. An idea starting to build in his mind.

“Are you asking me to put my reputation on the line and go out into the Mark unsupervised with one of the most notorious and eligible Rohirrim? What will the old women say?” Her laugh does things to him. Her everything does things to him, but there was a promise in her giggle. A promise of what he idly wondered. Gods he wanted to take her. Need to, he realized, need to bend her to his will and watch her fall apart because of him.

“You wound me, my Lady.” Putting his free hand over his heart and pulling a face. He was rewarded with that magical laugh. “The Rohirrim are known for their trustworthiness. Besides, what can they say about a betrothed couple spending time together?” At the barn now he put down her sword on a nearby table and reached for her. Holding her by her hips he gently pulled her towards him. She put up no resistance but melted into him, her hills matching his planes like puzzle pieces. Her hands went to his chest and she looked up at him and he could resist no longer, the look of complete love and trust in her eyes was too much and her mouth was too inviting.

Gripping her hips harder he leaned down and kissed her. A soft mewl of contentment escaped her throat as she wound her arms around him, submitting to his need, his touch; and that was it. He was done being nice, she was all he needed to clear his head and to feel clean. He needed to drown the memory of Grima with the reality of her. His Shield Madden, his firebrand, his unbroken mare, his beloved…

Picking her up by the hips with a growl he broke the kiss to look around the barn. Her legs naturally went around his hips as he supported her with a firm grip on her delicious ass. A quick glance around showed no one else was immediately visible in the barn, but he did not want to be interrupted before he was done with her. He had plans for her this afternoon. Following his lead she looked around the barn, too.

“Éomer, the tack room...is it empty?”

He growled his agreement before making his way to the blessedly empty tack room. With a final glance around the barn he stepped in, placed her on a saddle, and shut the door. “I don’t want to be interrupted before I’m done with you.” He said, finishing as he nuzzled the base of her ear. She shivered and he smiled against her neck.

“You like that, y/n? You like being at my disposal? Available for me to use as I wish?” Her whimpers increased as he delivered his speech to her neck, jaw, and finished making eye contact.

She grinned into his eyes saying, “Yes, my Lord.” And leaned back against the wall, opening up for his inspection. He drank her in, she was perfection and she was his; his domain. The primal need and thrill of ownership ran through him and settled in his groin. Yes, this perfect woman before him was all he needed. He reached up to cup the side of her face and she leaned into it closing her eyes and humming.

“Good Girl, so trusting. My girl is so good to me.” He said as he ran his hand down her neck, over her collar bone, her breast, cupping and weighing it, working her nipple through her dress, and resting his hand on the small of her waist. He leaned in to kiss her again, this time with more intent and force, wrapping his arms around her waist. He needed to feel her against him, remind himself she was real. She met his intensity with her own and her hands snaked up his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck. A soft moan passed from her mouth to his as he held her. Yes, he was as much hers as she was his.

He moved forward, spreading her knees with his hips until he pressed against her core. She locked her heels at the small of his back holding him against her. When she felt his desire press against her core she whimpered and rocked herself against him, earning her a groan that started deep in his chest and ended swallowed by her kisses. He rocked back into her so she could feel him. Her head lolled back and he took the opportunity to attack her neck, just barely resisting the urge to mark her where everyone could see. He’ll have to do it somewhere else...under her left breast maybe or her right hip when he was down there...oh the choices. Smiling to himself he leaned back far enough to make eye contact. “Do you feel that?” He asked, rocking his hips again.

“Mmhmm” she already couldn’t form words? Mmmmm, my hungry Little One… She murmured her acknowledgment and nodded her head. One hand on his shoulder the other on the saddle searching for a steady place to support her. You need not worry, Little One, I have you. You are safe in my arms and always will be. He thought as he held her close. And he was reminded that if it was within his power to keep her from harm he would do it, whatever the cost as long as she was protected, yes, he would do it. Gods help him; he would do anything for her. He rutted against her core again.

“That’s your fault. And what do you do when something is your fault? Hmmm?”

Opening her eyes she looked at him and whispered, “I take care of it.”

Gods her voice was gone already, such a needy little thing...this was gonna be fun and a smile broke across his face.

“That’s right Little One, you take care of it.” The name always got a reaction and this time was no different, she rocked her hips desperate for friction and eager for the next step.

Eager himself he hitched her up, hooked her knees over his shoulders, and bunched her skirts around her waist. Dragging his fingers on her legs as her lifted her skirts, only separating from her core when the material needed to pass. He maintained eye contact and Gods he could stare at her like this forever all wound up, anxious for his touch, trusting him completely, mouth open and breathing heavy. He bent down and stole a kiss before getting on his knees to start his pilgrimage towards his goal. Kissing her inner thighs and running his fingers along the outside, taking his time and receiving each moan and sigh as the offerings they were. When he got near her apex he gently blew over her heat and she bucked almost throwing herself off balance. Grinning at how needy his Little One was he leaned in further being sure to rub his beard along her inner thighs. She loved that, he knew her and would take care of her using his knowledge to satisfy them both. He felt her legs close around his head and gave her a little nip on her upper thigh. She opened back up him, “Good Girl” he murmured into her core before taking his first taste of her. Gods she was his favorite flavor. If he could, he would have her musk on him at all times. He felt his cock twitch at the idea of wearing her musk like cologne. Finally he gave into his need for her.

He started by licking up her slit then swirled his tongue around her clit her breathing and moans his guide. Not that he didn’t know her body, oh did he know her body, he knew how to elicit all her little noises, how she moves when she needs more, what she sounds like when she falls apart, that delicious sigh when she’s sated and happy. But every time was different. Every time she told him what she needed, all he had to do was listen and suggest. He flattened his tongue and swiped over all of her again before licking a finger and inserting it. She felt like heaven, always did, and he couldn’t wait to wreck her. He decided to mark her hip. As he worked his finger in and out and added another he bit her right hip receiving a small yip of shock before the muffled herself. He then sucked hard then licked to soothe the spot. Pulling back he surveyed his work, yes…that would be there for a few days.

Working his fingers in and out he returned his tongue to her clit, flicking, swirling, and lapping until she had three of his strong fingers buried in her. She reached down and gripped his hair, holding him in place as he worked her over. She knew him as well as he knew her, and the tug on his skull made him groan into her heat. Oh, Little One, you push me… Her breathing was broken and mingled with moans and sighs and she was moving with him, putting his tongue where she wanted it as he worked his fingers in and out, teasing that spot that if hit properly would push her over the edge. Lost and wild in her pleasure, he enjoyed knowing the control. His Little One moved his head and bucked against his fingers searching for the edge, so greedy for him; he smiled and kissed her inner thigh. He leaned back and watched his fingers disappear inside her, make her ready, feeling her greedy cunt sucking him in. With one last flick of his tongue on her clit he stood to look at his handiwork.

And she was a wreck; a beautiful wreck, just for him, because of him. Her head was back, eyes closed, her breathing was more a constant pant, she licked her lips to keep them from drying out as he watched, and she was working her nipple. What a view, he turned his fingers just so and she arched towards him tweaking her nipple harder and he felt her on the precipice. Her hand left his hair and went to the saddle to support her. If he kept on this way she would fall apart on his fingers. But as much as he loved watching that he hadn’t said she could play with herself. Oh Little One, you were doing so well. “Hey!” The sharp tone of his voice cut through her fog and she froze and looked at him, flushed and confused, so close she almost whined when his fingers stilled; almost, such a Good Girl for him. A cute pout crossed her face. “Did I say you could play with yourself?”

“M-my Lord?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He twisted his fingers in a way he knew would make her keen and he was filled with pride watching her suppress it and struggle to maintain eye contact. Knowing she wanted to lean into it and close her eyes and moan out loud. But breaking eye contact now would only get her in more trouble.

“No, Sir.”

“That’s right. You know better, Little One. Whose body this is?” She bit her lip, her fingers twitched on her nipple but she didn’t tweak it again. Good Girl. Her hips rolled and her legs would have wrapped around him had he not been holding her knee with his free hand. “Answer me, Little One.” She removed her hand from her breast, licked her lips and said, “Yours, Sir. This is your body.”

“That’s right. You know better than to play with someone else’s toy without permission, don’t you?” I asked while moving in to nuzzle her neck, my fingers still buried in her. Teasing the possibility of them finishing what they started. But she couldn’t have that. Only Good Girls get to cum on my fingers.

“Yes, Sir.”Her voice broke between the words when he gently ran his teeth along the muscle of her neck.

“Good Girl. Now clean my fingers.” He pulled his fingers out of her, relishing the filthy sound of her soaking pussy releasing them. He did that. He knew how to work her and give her what she needed. He also knew he could take what he needed from her. She was his tough, beautiful, wrecked Little One. He shoved his fingers in her mouth, all three of them, and shoved them all the way to back. She did her best to lick and suck his fingers clean while gagging on them. What a beautiful sound... She licked and sucked him greedy for her own juices. “Good Girl” he said when he was satisfied. She was beautiful, trying not to gasp for air but eyes a little weepy, cunt juice on her face...perfect. He couldn’t resist and grabbing her around the neck he leaned down and kissed her deeply. As they kissed he started to squeeze… pulling back and waiting for that sweet, little panic she could never quite stop despite trusting him completely. She had given him complete control and he worshiped her for it. He knew what a gift it was she had given him and he took care of precious things.

Releasing her he pulled back and reached for his pants. He opened them enough to release his aching dick, but no more. They were in public and he needed to be able to quickly protect her should the situation go that way. That and, there was something about remaining clothed that appealed at the moment. It made the skin he could see more taboo, what she offered him more sacred, more precious; a secret gift only for him as he was only for her.

“Little One, did you taste good?” She nodded, “Come have a taste of, Sir, then.” She grinned and moved to get off the saddle, but he changed his mind and grabbing her head he guided her down towards his crotch. She squealed but slid out of the saddle with grace and opened her mouth for him. She placed a hand at the base of his cock and the other went to his hip to steady herself. He let a half grin show on his face, the predatory glint in his eye would have terrified an enemy on the battlefield but it only made her weaker. He heard her mewl with desire before she broke eye contact and dove in, nuzzling at the base of his cock before giving it light little licks. “Don’t tease me, Little One.” He warned.

She started working him properly then, taking him in her mouth and moving up and down, swirling her tongue around the tip and licking up the base, her slobber making him wet and her hand working the part of him not in her mouth. God she was good, “You’re so good at that Little One. You treat Sir so good. Ugh, yes. Keep that up Little One.” He tried to let her work her magic, he really did, but he wound up batting her hands away and, using her hair as a leverage, started moving her head at his desired pace. Bless her she was able to keep up the magic of her tongue even at his pace. He pushed her a little farther than she would go on her own and delighted in her sweet gags. He knew how far to push her to help her grow, but knew exactly how far to go without crossing the line. Her enjoyment of these activities was paramount. Listening to her was divine and for a moment he was tempted to finish in her mouth.

But no, he wanted to finish somewhere else.

He pulled her off his dick and watched her closely as she caught her breath, checking she was good and still enjoying herself. Any sign he had gone too far and he would stop cold. But no, he still controlled the situation perfectly. Using her hair he guided her to her original position: leaning against the wall, skirt at her waist, spread on display for him. He released her hair and caressed her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into it. “That’s my Good Girl. Do you want Sir?” She nodded vigorously not knowing if she was allowed to beg for it or not. But she didn’t need to, he knew. He could tell she was aching and soaking for him. Ready and waiting to be filled by her stallion, her Rohirrim, her man; for that is what he was, through and though. He wouldn’t ask her for devotion he didn’t return.

Stepping between her legs he lined himself up and started to push. Both of them closed their eyes as he slowly claimed her again. Working himself in and out, little by little he stuffed her full. Their grunts and sighs the only sounds, his world collapsed to the feeling of her around his dick and her fingers gripping his biceps. And when he bottomed out...heaven, she always felt like heaven. He leaned down and put his forehead to hers as he waited for her to adjust. She whimpered and reached for him and leaned up to kiss him. Her lips still tasted like her and he gripped her ass before he started moving. She let her head fall and started to breathe faster. He needed her and he would take what he needed. Her fingernails bit into his neck and she bit her lip trying to be quiet for him, his Good Girl. He felt her tightening around him and he needed to feel her fall apart. “Are you close Little One? Are you going to cum for me? You gonna be my Good Girl, huh?” She opened her eyes to look at him and nodded.

“So close, Sir. You feel so good. So close.” God that high pitch to her voice, pleading for permission without asking, she knew him as well as he knew her. He swore she used that voice consciously, she denied it though, saying it just came out that way when he was in her. It didn’t matter in the end, that pleading quality to her voice made his dick throb every time he heard it.

“That’s my Good Girl, cum for me, Little One. Cum on my dick and make me feel it. Show me how good you feel. My Good Girl...” he continued his praise as he relentlessly fucked into her; driven on by the lurid sound of him ruining her soaked pussy. The saddle was making all kinds of noise, leather and wood creaking, buckles jingling in time to his thrusts, but to hell with that. His girl was close and he knew how to send her over, he loved watching it, and needed her to come apart completely. So he didn’t stop his filthy praise. Leaning back to watch his dick disappear inside her, he directed, “Play with yourself and cum for me, Little One.”

She reached up and started playing with the same nipple as earlier and that sent her closer, Gods he could feel it. He reached between them and pressed his thumb on her clit and...there we go. His pace didn’t break as she went under, everything in her tightening and small convulsions running through her as she tried to stay quiet. Her pussy clenched around him, milking him, demanding everything and he almost went over himself; a lesser man would have. Her eyes rolled back, her head lolled and she reached for him. He moved closer so she could hold onto his shoulder as he kept using her. “That’s my Good Girl. I’m right here with you, yes, give in, you look beautiful like this. You’re beautiful when you fall apart. You feel even better.” He leaned down to kiss between her breasts and turned to take the exposed nipple in his mouth.

Sucking and flicking it with his tongue he felt her start to come down and he pushed into her harder, intent on leveraging her heightened sensitivity to get her to cum again. He was merciless. He yanked her down so she was now on her back on the saddle and he could get deeper. He could never get deep enough. His grip on her hips never faltering, she was always safe with him, even when he was taking everything from her.

She reached up to put her other hand flat on his chest, needing more contact to ground her. He was climbing to his own release and knew he was hitting the right spots as she pulled her hand back and bit it in a feeble attempt to silence her lewd moans. He was grunting with the effort and was quickly getting beyond caring who heard them. Her moans were gold and he wanted all of them, they meant he was doing something right. He dropped his head and snapped his hips harder.

Both of them were completely gone, had someone walked in the room he wasn’t sure he would have stopped. All he knew was he wanted her to fall apart again; he wanted her ruined for anyone other than him. She went for her nipple again and pulled out her other breast and he shoved in deeper, egging her on. He could feel her tightening again and he asked her, “You gonna cum again for me? Gonna cum on my cock? Be a Good Girl, let me feel it again.” He reached up to grab her breast, he was beyond caressing or teasing he gripped it like the leverage point it was and she loved it. He hit a new angle that pulled more moans and a few curses from her sinful mouth. Her moans were barely muffled by her hand before they were let free when she reached for his shoulders with both hands and started begging. “Oh god, yes, don’t stop. I’m so close, Éomer! Shit! Just like that. Use your girl’s cunt. Fuck!” She reached down and toyed with her clit and she came hard on him. He grinned, her second one was always stronger, and fuck, “You’re gonna make me fill you up, Little One. You want that? Want me to fill up that greedy little cunt?”

“Oh Gods, yes, fill me up. Mark me as your own! Yes, use me.” Gods the filth that came out of that sweet mouth, he loved all of it. He felt his climax building in the tips of his toes and he didn’t stop. She didn’t stop talking and a few more thrusts were all he could manage before he was spilling into her. He felt the heat run through him and into her. Bottoming out and staying in her as he felt every twitch of his spurting cock and every flutter of her pussy. He bent to touch his forehead to hers, remind himself she’s real. Steady grip on her hips.

Taking deep breaths attempting to regain composure he felt her reaching for him. He leaned into it, righting her and pulling her close, never leaving her sweet, used pussy. Smoothing her hair as he leaned in for sweet kisses, sharing so much with lips and not words, he claimed her again. She was as sweaty as him and as breathless with a satiated, lopsided grin on her face that he was sure matched his own. He loved that smile, loved her put it there, yes, she was his.

Framing her head in his hands he pulled back to look at her. The love and trust in her eyes could send him over again or give him strength to defeat the hordes of Mordor. This woman...she was perfect. He kissed her once more deeply, tongues dancing, before stepping back and out of her.

He understood her small whimper. But damn if he didn’t love watching his seed leak out of her. Made his cock twitch, itching to get back in and fuck it all out before putting another load in her. He felt her eyes on him and now she was the predator. She knows how much he likes watching his seed fall out of her, and how much he likes watching her play with it. Holding his eyes she reached down and started touching herself. Gods this woman would be the death of him.

He came back in for another kiss.

“Come, we must be missed at this point. And if we don’t go now I won’t be able to stop and we will get caught; I’m not in the mood to have that conversation. Are you?” Her pout could make him do almost anything but he knew her heart wasn’t in it. She was too worn out.

Taking his hand she let herself be picked up and set back on her feet before she started to right herself. He did the same, slightly regretting not removing his pants as he saw their juices starting to dry. But once he put his outer garments back on the long skirts mostly covered it.

He looked over at her and aside from the satisfied flush and the smell of sex she looked as if nothing had happened. He took another deep kiss where he forgot where she started and he ended then they made their way out of the tack room. He went first.

Luck was with them, the barn still seemed empty of people. He pulled her close and stole another kiss before resuming his formal demeanor and the appropriate distance between them. The wedding couldn’t come soon enough as far as he was concerned.

Again he wondered if they could find a priest and just be done with this courtship.

Court. And that was all it took and he was back to Grima.

He may not be able to control Grima but he still had control over satisfying her. She smiled at him, squeezed his hand, and mouthed “I love you.” before she left him to find his sister. She had duties same as him.

Soon. Soon she would be truly his and could openly stand at his side always and they wouldn’t have to put on this charade.

As soon as his cousin finished this last patrol the wedding plans could move forward. Smiling to himself he headed back into the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone knows how to tag each chapter, sharing is caring!  
> Feedback is gold.


	2. The Watcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are moving into story mode meaning I will attempt a plot.
> 
> Any further intimate moments will be tagged on the appropriate chapters so mind the warnings.
> 
> Tags for this chapter - public masturbation, ick factor (is that a warning?), creep alert
> 
> As always, feedback is gold.

Haleth stood quietly in the shadows as he watched Éomer and Y/N leave the barn, stealing a kiss and fingers touching as long as possible, neither wanting to lose contact with the other. Unconsciously his lip raised in a silent snarl. How dare Y/N give her affection to anyone but him, they should all be his and once she belonged to him he would make sure she knew her place. Yes, once she was his, he would teach her to seek only his touch, his approval. The thought quieted the anger that always threatened to consume him and he focused on it, savoring the dark promises to himself.

He waited a few moments before sliding into the light. He was loath to admit it but watching them together, the way her hands reached for him, fingers splayed in desperation, he lived for their stolen moments as much as they did. Sometimes he would imagine himself in Éomer’s place, sometimes the knowledge he was sharing a moment not meant for sharing was sweetness enough. Haleth toyed with his cock and watched Y/N’s hips as she walked back to the palace he was soon hard again.

He had watched many over the years and was never noticed unless he wanted to be. Haleth was good at going unnoticed, he’d learned the skill early and learned it well, and it was why Grima found him useful. If he played the game well enough, there was land and power in Haleth’s future, maybe even Y/N. Grima could have Éowyn it was doubtful she would ever truly break and her persistent independence would ultimately prove annoying. Y/N would be his; he knew from watching her she could submit completely, and the idea of forcing her to submit delighted him. She gave herself readily enough to Éomer once the power behind Grima gave him what was his right she would learn to submit to him.

The thought pleased Haleth and as he watched her walk to the palace, he thought about the ways she could give herself to him. He thought of the ways he would control and subdue her, break her in like a wild mare and make her complicit and tame to his touch. Left alone with his thoughts, he started moving his hand up and down his cock as he watched her disappear into the palace.

Where Éomer dreamed of sharing his life with Y/N, being partners with her Haleth dreamed only of control and ownership. The thoughts running through his head as his hand worked his cock back to life would turn any woman’s stomach sour, or any man with decency. The harder his cock became the crueler his thoughts, visions of Y/N on her knees with a tear-stained face, his hand prints forming on her body, her whimpers and pleas for mercy. He felt his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach and he leaned against a stable door and his eyes fell on a bridle. The image of Y/N draped over a saddle stand wearing the bridle settled in his mind and as he envisioned his dick buried balls deep in her throat and her face going slightly purple for lack of air, he came powerfully with a grunt.

Yes, Y/N would be his one way or another. Haleth was good at waiting, and the plan was already in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Haleth is a creep.  
> Yes, he creeps me out as I wright him.  
> No, I won't water him down.


	3. The Wheel Turns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grima flexes his power and removes players from the chess board.
> 
> Chapter tags: Mentions of injury, political manipulation, angst, greif

The rain softened ground squelched under hooves as the scouting party came around the bend and out of the trees. From the tree line into the river bodies lay like a layer of leaves on the forest floor in autumn; and none were moving.

His cousin must still be alive. He must be.

“Théodred…” Éomer breathed out in panic. “Find the King’s son!” he barked. _Gods let him be alive._ Alternatives were not to be considered. Éomer dismounted and followed his own command, looking at the bodies, trying to listen to the story they wanted to tell before the rain washed it away. So much pointless loss. Damn Grima and the spell he put on Théoden.

“Mordor will pay for this.”

Looking at the dead Orc at his feet, Éomer responded to his solder, “These Orcs are not from Mordor…” Something was off about these Orcs; he rolled one over with his foot… the white hand of Saruman? But Saruman is an ally of Rohan… well, apparently he WAS an ally. And this is no Orc, but an Uruk-hai… what in the name of all the Gods is going on…

“My Lord, Éomer, over here!”

Moving lithely through the bodies, Éomer made his way to the soldier and turned over the body to look into the youthful face of Théodred.

“He’s alive! Find any other survivors as quickly as you can, then we ride for Edoras.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Find Éowyn and Y/N!” Éomer ordered a page as he and the group of soldiers carrying Théodred entered the palace. “They will do all they can for you, cousin.” This was as close as Éomer came to begging. He could not lose his cousin. He could not loose Y/N. To lose Théodred was to lose Y/N. She was a perfect match for the cousin of the King. But a King had to leave himself open for political advantage. That meant Y/N would only be a consort… No, Éowyn and Y/N would heal Théodred. He must not indulge in preemptive grief.

Gremar, the Master of the House appeared, drawn by the commotion, and fell into step beside him. “Bring Théodred to his room and call the healers. I must find Y/N.” With a nod of understanding, Gremar motioned to the soldiers carrying Théodred and moved toward the young man’s room with the efficiency of one used to being obeyed.

Éomer, realizing he was no longer in charge, took a moment to step off the kitchen porch and take a deep breath. So much was now uncertain; he needed to prepare himself for the coming onslaught. While he would love to indulge in hiding away, he had work to do, so three deep breaths were all he allowed before he went back inside, stripping his armor as he went.

In his room, the healers bathed Théodred and put him to bed. It was then the severity of his wounds was made plain. Looking at the wound on his young cousin’s torso, Éomer knew the truth. Wounds like that were hard to heal from when attention came immediately, when it was delayed… it took all his skill to keep his emotions off his face and not break down as they laid Théodred in bed. This did not bode well.

He sat next to the bed to wait for Théodred to wake. He must wake up, _come on Théodred, wake up. You are young and strong, Come on, man, wake up. Wake up._ These two words became a mantra in his head on endless repeat. If Théodred woke up the hopes of his healing were higher. All the child had to do was wake up. Éomer hung his hope on this.

He couldn’t say how long he had been beside the bed when Éowyn came in. Her face gently twisted in concern as she fell beside him and reached toward Théodred’s face. Relief eased across her face as she studied the young man, then she turned to Éomer in question. The wounds on Théodred’s face did not warrant the urgent call of her to a bedside.

Éomer nodded towards Théodred’s chest, hating he could not protect Éowyn, yet again, from pain. When she lifted the sheet, she stopped cold and neither of them dared to speak. How could they? This changed everything.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Éomer stared at Théodred with thoughts of Y/N and their future running through his head like a wild summer storm, never settling. Everything was in motion and he couldn’t see beyond this moment. He had to do something. With a growl, he stood and left the room. Éowyn didn’t stop him, he was never much help at the sickbed and she was grateful for the quiet; she worked better that way.

Éomer was desperate to find Y/N. She could always level him. He knew he shouldn’t leave Éowyn alone, Grima was always lurking, but he wouldn’t be much help at the moment. He was holding on by a thread and if provoked would most likely do something rash that would only make the situation worse. And for Grima, his existence was enough provocation.

Éomer found Y/N in the private hall of the Ladies pacing, her mending forgotten on the table. He watched her pace back and forth in front of the fire, appreciating the shape of her form, the sway of her hips, the rhythm of her feet. Sharing the same space with her already calming him. But they needed to speak. “Y/N, he is resting.”

She stopped mid-stride and snapped her attention to him. “Éomer.” His name a sigh containing a million things at once; joy at his safe return, one never knew what would happen on patrol, concern for his well-being and that of his cousin, and concern for their betrothal. She tried to hide it, but it was on his mind, too. He smiled weakly and shrugged his shoulders. So much was uncertain.

She came to him and grasped his hands. Her grip was iron, and he understood. There was so much both of them wanted, no, needed to say to the other, but here was not the place. They must maintain appearances here in the Great Hall, but her eyes spoke everything her mouth could not. _How bad is it?_ They asked.

“Éowyn is with him.” Éomer started, “We found him badly wounded in an Uruk-hai raid, but we all know how skilled a healer she is.” _And even her skill may not be enough._ He wanted to say but did not dare. Y/N seemed to understand. Her grip on his hands tightened for a long moment before she spoke.

“Her skills are unmatched in healing, except by me. I should go to him.” _Though I would rather stay with you,_ her eyes said as she reached to cup his face. He leaned into her hand with a sigh; _I wish you could stay with me, too._ But such was their world, duty and honor pulling them from where they longed to be.

“Then aid her. The Prince needs all the healing he can get.” _I wish I could keep you close and safe. Tend to Éowyn as much as Théodred._

Before he could think better of it he leaned down and captured her lips in a bruising kiss. She whimpered and gave in, hands gripping his shirt, pulling him into her. His hands snaked around her hips and pulled her close. She deepened the kiss, and it became a desperate thing, each of them trying to assure themselves the other was still theirs, they were real and would stay that way. When his emotions threatened to burst through his chest, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, savoring the closeness of her. _I love you_. Neither of them said it aloud, but both heard it all the same.

A tight squeeze of a hug, a desperate peck on his lips, a lingering look, and she left. First to the kitchens and the apothecary corner, then to Théodred’s room. While his sister and Y/N did all they could to save his cousin, Éomer had to think before he spoke to the King. Should Théodred die everything would change for him, everything.

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“Éowyn, I brought some supplies, how fairs Théodred?” Y/N spoke gently as she entered the room, balancing the basket of supplies and a tray of refreshments for Éowyn. Knowing her, she hasn’t thought of herself since she came in here. She had a habit of neglecting herself while tending for truly dire cases.

Éowyn looked up from Théodred and weakly smiled as she took in the gifts Y/N brought. “As well as can be expected, I assume you’ve been told details? We are doing all we can for him.” Y/N nodded in understanding. Usually speaking in code was an effort for her, despite growing up at court. She found it an annoying burden on the conversation that left too many opportunities for misunderstanding, but in this moment it provided a buffer between her and reality, and for once she was grateful for it. Speaking this truth aloud plainly was too painful, carried too many implications.

Y/N set the tray down, picked up a mug of cider, and walked to the bed. She casually handed the mug to Éowyn as she set down the basket of medical supplies beside the bed. The only way to give Éowyn nourishment when she was in nursing mode was to trick her into holding it by making her think she was helping someone else achieve a task. If left holding a consumable long enough, she would start eating it. “Is he still bleeding or is that under control?”

Mindlessly sipping from the mug in her hand, Éowyn nodded, “He is stable for the moment. The night will be the test. Let us pray he wakes in the morning.”

Nodding again Y/N settled into a comfortable position in the bedside chair. This vigil would be long and most likely bear bitter fruit. “Éowyn let me take the night watch. You have been with him long enough. Go stretch your legs, sleep if you can. Go find Éomer and annoy him for information. Update the King, perhaps. I will watch over him.” Éowyn immediately breathed in to list all the reasons she should stay, stubborn resolve starting to settle between her brows. “Oh, no you don’t, go oh Lady of Steel, you can trust me to watch a sleeping man without getting up to too much mischief, I hope.” The attempt at humor earns only a weary sigh and a begrudging groan.

“You will not let me be until you get your chance to sit with him, will you?”

“You know me so well.” Y/N grins broadly at her friend.

“Send word if there is any change.” Éowyn sighs and sets her mug down on the tray before walking towards to door. “You will be fine?”

“We are old friends Théodred and I; we have much to speak on. Go breath open air and bring me back a snack.” Punctuating the request with a wink succeeds in drawing a laugh from Éowyn and she waves you off as she leaves, gently closing the door behind her.

Picking up the book on the bedside table Y/N returns her attention to the sleeping young man. “Well Théodred, let’s see what happens next here, shall we?” And listening for changes in his breathing she starts to read.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Éomer ran into his sister in the hallway. “I thought you were with Théodred and Y/N?”

“It’s nice to see you too, brother. And I was, until Y/N insisted I get out. Théodred is sleeping. I was on my way to update our Uncle. Perhaps it is good we met first. What happened? Y/N did not speak of it.”

“It is always good to see you. Y/N did not speak of it because she does not know any details; I told her none. And yes, perhaps it is good we met. I found something disturbing out there.” He holds up the helmet so Éowyn could see the white hand. He watched the calculations run across her face as quickly as they had run across his.

“But Saruman has always been an ally of Rohan…what has changed?”

“I do not know, but dark things are moving and I fear the world of Men is not ready.”

“Let us pray you are wrong.”

“Come, we have much to tell our Uncle.”

They found Théoden on his throne in the Great Hall, he looked worse than before; Théoden a man in his prime looked like an old grandfather who wouldn’t make it to Winter Solstice. How had this been allowed to happen?

Éowyn went up the dais to take Théoden’s hand and spoke quietly, “Your son is badly wounded, My Lord.”

Éomer moved beside her and continued, “He was ambushed by Orcs. If we don’t defend our country Saruman will take it by force.” The glazed look of the indifference of the very old did not change on his Uncle’s face. Frustration began to bubble in his chest and Éomer took a deep breath to control it, loud rage would not help him now. What would it take to get through to him? The only voice Théoden responded to these days was…

“That is a lie.” Grima materialized out of the shadows and slunk to his seat beside the throne, where he spoke poison into the ear of Théoden. Despite his best effort Éomer felt his fists clench and his jaw tighten. That worm had no business holding so much influence in this hall and it was infuriating he could not out maneuver the man. “Saruman the White has ever been our friend and ally.”

“Orcs are roaming freely across our lands, unchecked, unchallenged, killing at will; Orcs bearing the white hand of Saruman.” To emphasize the point he chunked the helmet onto the dais with the white hand stark against the black. Grima stared at it as if it might bite him then changed tactics, choosing to ignore the evidence before him knowing Théoden would not intervene.

“Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind? Can you not see your Uncle is wearied by you malcontent, you war mongering?

“War mongering?” _The Hell? Gods give me a chance to pound the smirk off his smug face._ Resisting the urge to growl Éomer returns his gaze to his Uncle, “War will be upon us soon whether we wish it or not, Uncle. Soon night raids will no longer satisfy these Orcs and we will be under open attack. We must prepare defenses and mount a response.” Still his Uncle sat unresponsive. Grima smirked and began to walk away; ending a conversation he clearly did not want to have. _Is it because you are in the employ of Saruman? It would explain your disproportionate influence and Théoden’s unnatural decline._ Watching Grima walk to the side of the hall pieces clicked into place and Éomer found he was at his limit.

Moving swiftly he grabbed Grima by the chin and shoved him against a support column. The huff of air forced out of Grima’s lungs was a small satisfaction. With fire in his eyes he stared down at the Worm. “How long has it been since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price Grima? When all the men are dead you would take your share of the treasure?” Grima couldn’t stop his eye from wandering and Éomer followed his eye line to…Éowyn. So that was it, he was promised her. Éomer pressed harder against the Worm’s neck. “Too long have you watched my sister, too long have you haunted her steps.” Éomer watched the fear melt off Grima’s face and switch to smug satisfaction.

Before his confusion could solidify on his own face Éomer felt two sets of hands grasp his shoulders and pull him away from Grima.

“You see much, Éomer son of Éomund, too much.” Grima said, righting himself and his clothing. “You are banished forthwith from the Kingdom of Rohan and all of its domains... under pain of death.”

“You have no authority here. Your orders mean nothing.” Struggling against his captors Éomer stood as best he could and made eye contact with the snake, he would not let this happen, for Gods sake he was the nephew of the king! Éomer hated to play that card, but at this point…

“Oh but this does not come from me.” Glee dripped off every word as he reached into his cloak and pulled out a document unrolling it with dramatic satisfaction. “It comes from the King, he signed it this morning.” The guards holding him pulled him back and away from the Great Hall despite his struggles. _No! This could not be!_

As soon as they were out of eye sight and hearing of Grima the soldiers stopped and released him. “Forgive us, Lord Éomer, but we had no choice.” Éomer stopped struggling and stood in confusion for a moment, and then realization struck. These men were loyal to the King not Grima, but they could feel which way the wind was blowing as much as Éomer. Could he blame them for what they did? No, he could not.

“These are dangerous times, I understand. There is nothing to forgive. Unfortunately that document stands. Do you know how many he is moving off the game board with it?”

“Your entire Company at least, my Lord.” One of the soldiers said with bow and a grimace. Who would enjoy sharing that kind of news?

“Oh Gods, can one of you find Y/N and have her meet me in the barn? The Company must pack and leave quickly, but I cannot go without seeing her.” The second soldier nods and starts to leave but Éomer stopped him, “Be subtle, do not draw attention. She is not high on the Worm’s radar and I would like to keep it that way. He does not count women in his calculations and that has been a blessing thus far. Let us not lose it.” Another nod and the soldier disappeared. The other stayed and looked to Éomer for direction. “Go, warn who you can, pack what you can, gather what else you might. Go, go, we have no time.” Scrubbing a hand over his face Éomer stalked the long way to the barn, he had thinking to do.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Banished? On what grounds?” Righteous fury and indignation saturated her questions and etched themselves on her face as her hands settled on her hips. Gods was she beautiful when she was ready for battle. Despite the urgency of the situation Éomer felt pride fill his chest. This magnificent Shield Maiden was ready to go to war for him at a moment’s notice. How was it possible he could still fall deeper in love with her? Was there no bottom to his love? No, he realized, there was no end.

They were in the barn and Y/N watched as Éomer made his final preparations to leave with his Company. “There is no way that order is valid; the King hasn’t been in his right mind for ages. Not since... You are the most loyal man to the King in the Mark. You are needed here.” She stopped him with the flat of her hand on his chest.

He stopped and put his hand over hers. “It is for that loyalty we are banished. We are a liability to the Worm; me especially.” He held her eyes as his thumb traced her fingers over his heart. _Because Grima cannot control me I am banished. Especially now that Théodred…_ He glanced towards the palace then back at Y/N and saw his concerns mirrored back to him and again he felt the stab of failure. He couldn’t protect his King, he couldn’t protect Théodred, he couldn’t protect Éowyn, and he couldn’t protect Y/N. He used to feel so strong; all he felt recently was impotent. He squeezed her hand on his chest harder.

“Do not leave me here alone.” She whispered, stepping into him and taking his free hand in hers. It broke his heart hearing that quiet plea, she wasn’t one to let fear show, but he saw it on her face now. He could not blame her either. If the King’s own family couldn’t fight off Grima, what hope did she have? Gods he wished he could stay, and what would he do besides watch with her as their world crumbled? But he would rather do that by her side than leave her alone.

“I have no choice, it is a signed decree. I will not be gone long.” He soothed, “Besides, we’ve needed to address the roaming bands of Orcs for ages. Grima has just given my entire Company leave to do just that. See, we are still in the King’s service.” With a weak smile he reached up to stoke her hair, “I will be back, this is not how our story ends, Little One.”

The whimper she’d been holding back escaped her mouth and she embraced him with all her strength. He held onto her with the same fervor and for a long moment the world was just the two of them. Both holding on with wild desperation, trying to give and take comfort at the same time while clinging to the hope his words were not empty.

When he finally found the strength to pull back the fear was gone from her face replaced with stoic determination. “Éowyn and I will continue to try to reach your Uncle and we will bolster moral as much as we can. We still have friends in Háma and Gamling, we will lean on our allies.” She reached up and cupped his face, “Do not lose heart, my love. We will come through this; Rohan will come through this stronger. We must believe this.” She took a breath and added, “I will wait for your return.” The familiar promise came out thick with emotion but she did not break. Oh, his Little One, always so strong for him.

He pulled her into his arms once more and kissed her deeply, his hands roaming her body, finding the small of her back and the space between her shoulder blades and staying there; keeping her safely against him one last time. She melted into him, losing herself in the taste and smell of him, the security of his arms around her, the feel of his hair between her fingers and the firmness of his armor against her chest familiar and comforting. When he finally relaxed his arms she didn’t try to stop the noise of objection and his face said he understood.

Stepping away and watching him mount his horse she was acutely aware of the chill creeping across her chest and arms as his heat left her body. She felt it crawl down her spine as she watched Éomer ride out of the barn without a backwards glance and felt the Company ride past and out of Edoras. She stood alone in the empty barn as the sound of the riders faded away. The silence settled in the pit of her stomach and she felt the panic begin grow. It became a ball of empty threatening to consume every bit of her as her thoughts began to spiral and her chest contracted.

 _If Grima could banish a member of the royal house without breaking a sweat what else was he capable of doing? What was his next move? What was he going to do to Éowyn? How quickly would he move? Was he going to remove the rest of the court, staff, and soldiers he couldn’t bend to his will?_ There were plenty who did not approve of the situation, few who were as vocal as Éomer. Gods bless him, but subtle was not in that man’s vocabulary and that was what this situation called for. They all had to tread lightly until they discovered what it would take to free the King from the curse he was under. There was no doubt the King was bewitched, but who was pulling the strings was unclear. All Y/N knew was Grima was involved somehow.

She fell to her knees releasing a choked sob as her isolation and desperation overwhelmed her senses. She wanted to weep, to shout at the world and make it bend to her will; but that would draw too much attention. Instead she curled into herself, hugging her torso seeking a semblance of the warmth Éomer had taken with him. Touching her forehead to her knees she started to pray. It wasn’t a grand prayer from the epic poems, it wasn’t a murmured dream; it was a simple prayer all children knew, more a recitation of the tenants of the faith than a plea for anything specific. But it was comfort and meant she didn’t have to think for the next 60 seconds.

When she finished she carefully stood, dusted her knees, adjusted her gown, squared her shoulders, and made her way back to the palace. She had work to do. And had Éomer seen her he would have been proud of her regal bearing; Grima would have whimpered in fear. A Shield Maiden of Rohan had found a cause.


	4. Hope is found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A guest brings hope to Rohan, but how much can be found for Y/N and Eomer?
> 
> Tags - Mentions of death, mentions of injury, grief

Y/N returned to Théodred’s room unseen and hopefully unmissed. She found one of the kitchen girls tending to him but sent the girl back to her duties, there was no telling who was under Grima’s thumb. Y/N leaned over Théodred and listened to the boy’s breathing, shallower than when she had left him. _No, pretty boy, you have always done whatever would get you the most attention. Don’t change that now._ “Come on, you, wake up. I know it hurts, but we need you. Your father needs you.” She wiped his brow and cupped his face. Then pulled back his blanket to check the wound and froze. The bandage was soaked through.

“No, no, no, no, you obnoxious boy…Don’t do this to us. I’m sure you have many more poorly planned pranks to pull on me and test my patience. Remember? Remember how you would get your friends together and wreak havoc? You still have to beat Éowyn in combat and recitations…” Y/N knew she was rambling, but she had no other way to deal with the panic flooding her veins. Her physic was out matched. All she had now was sheer force of will to bring this sweet boy back. She rambled as she changed the bandage and cleaned the wound. She rambled as the water grew red in the bowl and the new bandage became crimson again.

Y/N knew she was fighting a losing battle but could not stop. Not until his chest stops…Oh Gods…no.

Her hands froze as she noticed the changes.

And she finally the sobs she had swallowed in the barn broke free. This was too much.

Théodred was gone.

She collapsed against his torso and lost all track of time.

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Minutes or hours later, she didn’t know, Éowyn appeared and found her bent over Théodred’s body cried out but unable to move. She pulled Y/N back and gently turned her head to look her in the eye. “Y/N, what has happened?”

“He is gone.”

“What? No…” Éowyn turned to look at the body with wild desperation in her eyes, but Y/N knew her business and was right. The prince was gone. Turning back to Y/N the women shared a glance and in it each saw their grief and fear reflected back at them.

_He is too young. This should not be happening. What do we do now?_

Emotion threatened to consume them both and for a moment they indulged. They clung to each other and desperate cries were muffled and suppressed, each supporting and seeking support from the other. Éowyn’s knees gave out and had Y/N not been holding her she would have fallen to the floor. Instead, Y/N gently placed her in a chair and knelt before her holding her hands.

“What will happen to my marriage? Oh Gods, what will happen to Rohan?” Y/N began to ramble into Éowyn’s skirts breaking the spell grief had placed on her and bringing her back from the precipice of all consuming despair.

“Breathe deep, Y/N. All is not lost. We still have friends in the palace and we have work to do. We need to ensure the people do not lose what hope they have.” Éowyn gently stroked Y/N’s hair and spoke to herself as much as to the woman at her feet.

“You are right. We have allies and much to do. Mourning can come later, for there is much to mourn.” Y/N lifted her head wiping her tears from her cheeks and looked into the eyes of her friend. “We will honor Théodred properly soon. First we must prepare him. I will go find aid, we need to clean him and prepare him. Can you tell your Uncle? I will meet you back in here.”

Smiling Éowyn squeezes Y/N’s hands and says gently, “That’s the Y/N I know. Yes, he should hear this news from me. I will meet you back here after my Uncle hears the news.”

When Éowyn stands she does not release her grip on Y/N’s hands, forcing the other woman to stand with her. Together they leave the room and go their separate ways, each to their own task.

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Gamling found Y/N with two house maids heading back to Théodred’s room. “Y/N, your presence is required in the Great Hall. Visitors have come to see the King.”

“Who are they, Gamling? Why did you not stay?” They must be of great importance if Gamling was not there with them.

“It is Gandalf the Gray with three companions; a man, an elf, and a dwarf. I do not know their business but the Worm was most disturbed by their coming. Do you know where Éowyn is, she should be there too.”

“Oh blessed day, let us hope Gandalf will provide remedy to the King. If Éowyn is not in the company of her Uncle then she is in Théodred’s room, we…” Y/N looked at the materials in her hands and grief briefly took her tongue, “…we have work awaiting us there. If she is not there and not with her Uncle I cannot say where she is.”

“She will be found, Y/N, you should come now.”

Y/N nods before handing her supplies to one of the girls with whispered instructions to start the cleansing ritual before following Gamling into the Great Hall.

And what a scene they walk into.

Éowyn had found her way to the Great Hall and was being held back by the Man while Gandalf was focused on the King. _Where is Grima? He would not idly stand by while his grip on Rohan was loosened._ Searching the scene at the front of the room Y/N sees the Dwarf has his foot squarely in the middle of Grima’s chest. The absurdity of the scene distracts her from her grief and she is surprised when she has to stifle a giggle, _oh this is rich._ Instinctively Y/N starts searching the crowd for Éomer’s face because he must surely be enjoying this as much as…then she remembers and it hits her hard in the gut. He is not here to be found.

Taking a deep, centering breath, with sober eyes she returns her attention to the King and Gandalf. She could not make out what was being said but a cackle rings throughout the hall, it’s a taunting thing meant to mock and belittle. It was not the voice of the King, was he now truly possessed? Gandalf stepped back, removed his cloak and a brilliant white light filled the hall. Y/N took a few steps closer to the dais; her family was in the path of that light and who knew what it was capable of. Y/N didn’t think to suppress the protective instinct that surged through her.

Gamling kept his head and held her back before she drew too much attention to herself and she struggled against him as Éowyn struggled with the stranger who held her. “Trust in Gandalf.” Gamling whispered in her ear and she stopped. He was right, Gandalf was on the side of light, but always played his own game. He was inscrutable but could be trusted to do Good. Still her concern could not be so easily erased and she fiercely gripped Gamling’s arm as she watched with her heart in her throat.

The light dissipated and the King was made new before her eyes. The grey hair, papery skin, and cloudy eyes melted away like a bad dream. Éowyn broke free of her captor and went to her Uncle’s side. Y/N couldn’t hear what was being said, but her concern melted away at the gentle smile on Éowyn’s face and the recognition crossing Théoden’s.

“Your hands would remember their strength better if they held your sword.” Gandalf’s voice rang clear through the Hall. Gamling proudly walked to the dais and presented the King with his sword. When Théoden held his sword aloft all but the Worm rejoiced.

As the King drove Grima out, Y/N turned to Gamling. “I must tend to Théodred. Tell me what the fall out of all this is. When the King asks for Théodred, tell him he is in his room. I will be with his son. Let none but Éowyn tell him the story.”

Gamling nodded in acknowledgment then Y/N returned to Théodred’s room. Once there she joined in preparing him for viewing. The handmaids had finished striping the bed and Théodred and had started to wipe him down. Grabbing a cloth, Y/N starts washing his face; slowly wiping across eyes, nose, and mouth, moving to his chin and his neck. Someone starts to hum, one by one each woman joins adding her voice to the song of cleansing. The words and melody wrap Y/N in a soothing cocoon of familiarity and her shoulders release the tension they’ve held since Théodred was brought home as her mind goes quiet focusing entirely on her task at hand.

Yes, Théodred was taken too soon, but his ancestors will guide him and greet him with open arms. _We will make you ready to meet them, Théodred. We will send you off as you deserve, with honor and song._

As you continue to clean him the familiar actions start to do their work and your mind goes blank, depending on the years of repetition to get you through. The familiar work brings the same comfort the prayer did earlier and an opportunity to stop thinking. Y/N disassociated from her grief and instead of washing her dear friend she was able to think of him as yet another body. Loss was always hard but the grief was softer when it was someone else’s. Y/N knew she would be unable to fulfill her duties if she embraced her grief now, so she made it someone else’s for the moment. It could be hers again later.

The song ended and Théodred was clean.

The handmaids lifted Théodred from the bed and Y/N made it.

The next step was to dress him for his final journey. Again, repetition came to her aid. The three women carefully placed clean garments on the body, and lovingly laid him out on the bed. As Y/N crossed the young man’s arms Théoden appeared in the door. It was his shattered cry that drew her attention. It was the sound of a broken man. Staying in “3rd Party Death” mode she turned and said, “My King, he is on his way to the Hall of your Ancestors. He is at peace.”

The words clearly brought little comfort, they rarely did, but it was tradition. There was comfort in knowing what to do at times like this, knowing what to say. Because if there was no script, what would one say? _I’m sorry you were possessed and your child was killed while you were unresponsive? I’m sorry your legacy was stolen while you were not in control of your mind?_

“He looks well, thank you, Y/N. These past few days must have been…I cannot imagine what you have been through.”

“It is no more than what you are dealing with, My King. We have you back now and you bring the light of the new dawn to Rohan. You have been saved which means we may be saved as well.” She offers a smile that almost reaches her eyes and Théoden pulls her into a strong hug, holding her close and whispering, “I will do all I can to ensure your betrothal remains secure.” He pulled back and looked her in the eye, “Let us have no more unnecessary tears.”

Nodding weakly and pulling away Y/N changes the subject, “We can discuss all that later. Now is the time to focus on you and your son. I will leave you for a moment of privacy.”

You switch places with the King and go to find the anointing oils. There were still things to do before Théodred was laid to rest. It was not time to think on what these past few days mean, not yet.


	5. The Journey Begins - Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the nation seeks sanctuary in Helms Deep Y/N finds she needs her friend more than ever and Éowyn seeks to follow a deep calling. They are both watched and pawns are moved on the board.
> 
> Warnings:  
> References to battle and injury (nothing direct)

The vines on Théodred’s tomb haven’t taken root and here we are marching to Helms Deep for protection from Saruman, the White Wizard who had previously been our ally. This world was hard to comprehend at times. Releasing a great sigh Y/N looked over to watch Éowyn; she wasn’t used to this kind of hard walking but would hurt herself before showing weakness. Éowyn was walking next to the Ranger who was part of Gandalf’s party, Aragorn that was his name, and blatantly flirting. The elf, Legolas, rode up beside Y/N and drew her attention.

“You ride well, my lady.”

“Thank you, it is a skill all are expected to have in Rohan. May I ask you a question about one of your party?” he inclined his head as invitation to continue, “The Ranger Aragorn, is his heart free?” Y/N turned to look at Éowyn and Aragon again for emphasis. “I worry for her.”

“You are perceptive, it is not. He gave it long ago to another in trade.”

“Trade?”

“He gave his in return for hers.”

“And they say Elves have no sense of humor! Thank you, sir. Now I know what I must do. I doubt she will listen, but we must take care of our friends, mustn’t we?”

“That we must. He can be rough around the edges, but sometimes he is too polite for his own good.”

“All too easy around sheltered women I fear. Especially those used to high court manners, sometimes too much is read into politeness.”

“That it is, Lassie.” A voice as rough as the Elf’s was fluid joined the conversation. It was behind her, but not far enough away for another rider.

“Master dwarf! I did not see you there.” The dwarf was ridding double with the Elf and made a gruff noise of acknowledgement.

“Do you not consider yourself a sheltered woman?” The Elf’s tone was light but Y/N knew it was asked in earnest. The Elves were known for fishing for leverage in every conversation and Y/N knew just enough to think through her words and speak cautiously. She studied the young Elf as she pondered how to answer his question and felt the weight of the Dwarf’s gaze.

“I do not claim to be a worldly as a Ranger but I am not as protected as a Princess of Rohan.” Both strangers nodded and Y/N felt she had threaded the needle well; she did not have as much training in Elvish Diplomacy as the royal children did, but all noble children had some. You never knew who would be tapped to be a Diplomat to the Elves. Either way, Y/N recognized she needed to change the subject, “Have you been to Rohan before, Master Dwarf?”

“Ah have not, my lady.”

“And what do you think of your experience thus far?”

“A few too many horses for my taste, but the hospitality is unrivaled.” He winked merrily eliciting a laugh from Y/N.

“Well said, Master Dwarf, well said. If you will excuse me it seems I am needed. Be sure to pace your horse well, he will tire faster than the rest with you doubled up like that.” With a nudge of her heel Y/N left the two strangers to answer the summons glad for the excuse.

Y/N’s suspicions about Éowyn’s attentions were confirmed that night when the caravan made camp. She overheard a conversation between the two that was painfully obvious to everyone but Éowyn that the Ranger was only being polite and was attempting to emphasize all the reasons why nothing could develop between the two of them. Y/N idly wished she could convince her friend to cease her pursuit of the stranger but knew in her heart the only way Éowyn would stop was if the Ranger put his foot down in a brutal manner and he did not seem the kind. This Ranger had a gentle heart, and it seemed knowing too much of war he was loathe to cause unnecessary pain. Could he, perhaps, be convinced to be more direct with Éowyn and ease her pain that way? Y/N recognized this as a viable alternative and made a mental note to return to this line of thought later that night.

That did not happen. Between all the tasks involved setting up camp for thousands and breaking it down again in the morning and tending to the ill while on the move time slipped over Y/N like the air and Helms Deep was in sight before she had time enough to consider speaking to the Ranger about her friend’s misplaced affection. And by that time the real work began and any time she might have had to herself on the journey was lost in the preparations for the siege.

The journey to the fortress had been hard on the elderly and the damp caves did not help. Y/N had not seen Éowyn for a few hours and desperately needed her friend’s skill; the battle hadn’t started and yet the ill were overwhelming in number. Working her way through the crowds going into the caves was a feat, she felt like a salmon swimming upstream. Coming around a corner into the main courtyard of the keep her quarry came in sight; golden hair standing out like a beacon amongst the helmets and dark hair. She was in conversation with someone it was unclear who, but it did not matter.

“My lady, Éowyn, healers are needed in the caves. Will you come and lend your skill?”

Éowyn turned to Y/N in surprise, unable to find her footing. Clearly Y/N had interrupted something. Y/N turned to see who her friend had been speaking with and found the Ranger, Aragorn, looking back at her. “I apologize for the interruption, sir Ranger, but we are short handed already. The more we can help now the better situated we will be to handle the wounded when the fighting starts. My lady, your people need you.” Y/N forced her grasp on Éowyn’s upper arm to remain light, ignoring the urge to drag the woman bodily into the caves.

“Go, it seems your battle has already begun, my lady.” The Ranger respectfully inclined his head and left the two of them alone.

“Why could you not let us be? I was trying to help defend our home!” Éowyn tried to shrug out of Y/N’s touch and follow the Ranger to continue her plea, but her friend held tight.

“Why can you not see that tending to the sick IS defending our home?”

“The two are not the same, Y/N, do not attempt to equate them.”

“You are telling me that if Théodred had been brought to us in time and had been saved by physic it wouldn’t have protected our country?”

Éowyn stopped fighting Y/N and finally looked her in the eye, shock and betrayal on her face.“That is not the same, don’t twist my words!”

“It is the same! You have simply dismissed our calling as something beneath you for no reason other than your obsession with the sword.” Éowyn worked her mouth searching for a retort but Y/N didn’t give her time. “When you dismiss healing as useless do you not see you dismiss me as well? Éowyn, my dearest friend, there are many ways to be a warrior and many battlefields on which to find glory. Please, do not limit yourself this way. You have a gift, given by the Gods, that can protect and nurture your people in ways swords cannot. But you MUST use that gift.” Éowyn’s heart softened at the desperation on her best friend’s face. She gripped her friend and broke eye contact to look, really look at the battle preparations swarming around them. Eventually, she turned back to Y/N and spoke calmly, with resolution.

“I cannot ignore the call on my heart, for battle calls my heart the way healing sings to you. But I will go where I am needed most and can do the most good for now. Come, show me what is needed of me.”

“Thank you my friend.”

They were halfway to the main cave when they heard the first horn. Panic flooded Y/N’s body as she looked to Éowyn, “It can’t be starting yet, can it?”

Éowyn opened her mouth to respond but a second horn blast and the sound of the gates opening cut her off. “What is that? The gates?”

Y/N shrugged, “Let’s go find out.”

Éowyn nodded, leading them back to the main courtyard. Y/N was not ready for what she saw there. Elves in full armor stood at attention in precise lines before the stairs, making a mockery of the men of Rohan scrambling around in thinly veiled panic. Y/N had heard of Elves all her life but had never met one before Legolas appeared with Gandalf, now there was a full battalion before her and all she could do was stare and whisper to Éowyn, “Have they come to help?”

Wordlessly Éowyn shrugged, clearly as surprised as Y/N and together fthey stood in silence watching as Aragorn greeted the Elves with unrestrained joy. Y/N took comfort knowing this experienced fighter was as nervous as she was, he was simply better at hiding it than her. As Aragon and his guest disappeared behind the columns on their way to speak with Théoden a thought occurred to Y/N.

“Now the Elves are here, will they be able to convince Théoden to send the children back to the caves? He has pulled children to fight; children.”

“I know, let us hope my Uncle is able to hear reason. He feels he has much to compensate for and that can make a man deaf.”

“Slaughtering the future of his people is not the way to make amends.”

Éowyn turned to Y/N with fire in her eyes and hissed, “Keep those thoughts to yourself!”

“I keep more to myself than you know, Éowyn, you will not silence me when I seek to preserve what future our kingdom may have. The Gods know I must sacrifice much for it.” The steel in Y/N’s words almost struck Éowyn and she pulled back in surprise.

Each woman studied the other, desperate for the comfort of a friend but neither willing to back down. Éowyn broke eye contact first.

“You are right, I cannot image the struggle you face, and you face it alone.” She squeezed Y/N’s hand and smiled. Squeezing back, Y/N sighed.

“Look at us, stress fighting and the work has yet to begin. Come on, your uncle will make the choices he will. We have work waiting for us whatever he does, let us see to it.”

“Lead the way.”

Gamling watched the women disappear into the mouth of the mountain. He had never given Y/N much thought before but now Éomer was the heir apparent, to be made official on his return, Gamling knew she would play a major role in the running on Rohan. Accordingly he had started watching her more closely since Théodred’s passing and what he saw gave him great hope for the future. Y/N had a way of thinking through things that allowed her to think beyond the moment, short sighted thought was the failure of many a man, but more than that she saw the value in all things. The shining Rider and the humble Farmer were equal in Y/N’s eyes, both necessary for the continued functioning of Rohan. Pleased, Gamling went to join Théodred in the War Room.

Haleth also watched the women descend into the caves but he only saw Y/N’s physical form and he thought of endless ways he could steal her into some hidden place and have his way with her. No one would notice, he told himself, in all this bustle no one would miss a healer. And Éomer isn’t here to protect her now, a dark grin settled on his face at this detail. Before he could act on his thoughts he and a few other men were directed to clean and sharpen the weapons stored at Helms Deep. _Bah, those old lumps of metal won’t hold up against what’s coming. What’s the point? Let us surrender to Saurman and get me my reward._ His thoughts continued as he did as he was told. _Not time, yet. Not time._ He soothed himself, he wasn’t a coward he was being prudent not taking Y/N yet. He was biding his time for the right moment. Yes, the moment would present itself, and it wasn’t now.

zzz

The wounded flowed like a river, constant and unending. Y/N thanked the Gods for each woman who brought her skill. And they all did from the Old Mothers who could only tell the young what to do to the young ones who kept everyone supplied with clean water and replaced used supplies with clean, every skill level was present and they were all needed. Despite the overwhelming workload Y/N firmly refused the assistance of those yet to go through the Rites of Womanhood. She would not put children to work even if her King chose to.

The night wore on in a blur of inuries, gruesome but typical of war and Y/N dared to hope the worst was behind them when a mighty rumble tore through the mountain. _What could do such a thing and what damage had it caused on the battle field?! Gods above take pity on us and bring our nation through this night. Do not let this sanctuary become a tomb._ Y/N’s prayer came before she could think as she held onto the rocks for balance.

After the wave came unnatural silence.

Fear drove her from the side of the wounded up into the hall and on to the battlefield above. She emerged in the great courtyard but could see nothing due to a steady rain. Desperate for information she ran up the stairs to the parapet, heedless of the increasing weight of her clothes as they absorbed the water. She moved a child out of her way to look down onto the nightmare below. While Y/N was no stranger to the aftermath of war she had never before seen an active battlefield. Her blood froze in her veins as lightening ripped through the sky and illuminated a never-ending sea of Orcs. Gulping for air and clinging to the stone wall as her knees threatened to buckle she turned to an older man beside her and shouted over the downpour, “What shook the mountain? We felt it in the caves!”

The man simply pointed behind her and she turned and saw the great wall in shambles, Orcs washing over it like water. _What force under the sky could rend stone like that?_ An arrow flew past her head and she was reminded of her vulnerable position. She gave into her knees and collapsed behind the wall, hugging her legs to her chest trying to be as small as possible. “Stupid, stupid, stupid; what did you hope to do up here? Up here in the open, vulnerable and exposed? No weapons, no armor? Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

A cheer from the men broke her trance and despite her fear she stood again to see what had rallied them; for it was joy she saw on their faces now, hope replacing the grim determination. She looked to the hill on the right and silhouetted by a blinding light, was it dawn?, was Gandalf. When Éowyn asked her later how she knew it was Gandalf Y/N had no answer, it was something felt in ones bones. Like when you know it is a family member riding up the hill, or you know a wild horse will not hurt you, or you know you love; these are things one cannot explain but one knows without a doubt. That is how she knew it was Gandalf.

His presence alone would have heartened the men to keep fighting but Gandalf was not alone. Cresting the hill shortly after Gandalf appeared Éomer and his Company.

Y/N collapsed for the second time in as many minutes but this time from joy. Éomer was home. As the battle resumed, hope fueling the men instead of desperation, Y/N worked her way back to the caves to resume her own tasks.

It wasn’t until she was half way down the tunnel she realized she was crying.

When Éowyn saw her friend opening weeping she feared the worst and her heart stopped. Then she noticed Y/N was grinning and vibrating joy, she clasped Éowyn tight in a sopping hug and whispered, “He is back, Éomer is back! Everything is going to be OK”

Éowyn didn’t understand how the return of her brother would fix everything but Y/N was not in a mood to elaborate. Others noticed Y/N’s return and Éowyn raised her voice to share the joy, “Reinforcements have come, hope is restored.” More softly she turned to Y/N, “Come, our work has just begun.”

Y/N looked at her friend and a laugh bubbled in her chest and escaped in a harsh bark of joy. Her hand shot to cover her mouth in surprise then she dropped her hands and let the laughter soak her the way the rain had. She laughed full and long and soon others joined. Eventually, Éowyn took her hand and pulled her into the cave to return to work; giggles followed Y/N as she went about her tasks and slowly the fear dissipated, relenting as it always will to hope.

A few hours later a Herald came into the caves to make it official, shouting in a clear voice that carried almost to the back, “The day is ours, Rohan is victorious and grateful for the aid of our allies the Elves and Gandalf the White!” The Herald’s mouth kept moving but none heard what he said for the cheer of relief and joy drowned out all noise.

Éowyn sat heavily on a rock and covered her mouth as she sent a silent prayer of thanksgiving to whatever God was listening. Her people would survive.


End file.
